


Deadly Dixie Queen

by ravenwing602



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Bisexual Female Character, Both Sole Survivors Live, Canon-Typical Violence, Casual Relationships - Freeform, Dubious Morality, F/F, F/M, Lesbian Character, Moral Dilemmas, Multi, Nuka World, Nuka-World DLC, Politics, Polyamory, Raiders, Sleeping with people to save your life, and are women
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-13 01:36:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12972852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenwing602/pseuds/ravenwing602
Summary: Anabelle just wanted to go back to Sanctuary Hills, reconvene with her wife then go find their missing son, Shaun. Unfortunately for Anabelle, the raiders at Nuka-World have a different plan for her. Tricked into becoming Overboss, this former southern belle housewife must navigate her way around three murderous gangs just waiting for her to fail. If she ever wants to see her family again she'll have to play their game and rise to be the most powerful raider boss the Commonwealth has ever seen.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Machine Mother](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6576280) by [MorganOfTheFey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorganOfTheFey/pseuds/MorganOfTheFey). 



> Hey guys, this is my first (serious) go at a Fallout fanfiction, but I'm looking forward to writing this one. Just for clarity's sake, I changed up the default player characters because I felt that there was a distinct lack of lesbians in this fandom, so instead of Nate and Nora I changed them to Dala and Anabelle. Dala replaced Nate and is the 'Sole Survivor' as far as the game is concerned, she's the one who is going through the main game, completing the quest line deciding the fate of the Commonwealth. Anabelle, the main character who the story follows, takes the place of Nora. I've always been a sucker for 'the spouse survives' stories (and I think it's stupid Kellogg would have killed one of Shaun's parents), so in this story Anabelle is the 'dead' spouse who lives and goes through the events of the Nuka-World DLC.

Anabelle walked down the hall, wrapping her robe around her and tying it off. Dala was already up and sitting on the couch, newspaper and her favorite black coffee in hand.

“Ah, good morning, Mum!” Codsworth greeted, waving a claw. “Your coffee is ready, exactly a hundred and seventy-eight point five degrees fahrenheit with cream and sugar.”

“Thank you, Codsworth,” Anabelle said, giving the robot a smile as she took the mug from him.

“Do you want to wake up Shaun, or should I?” Dala asked, looking up from the paper.

“I’ll do it,” Anabelle said, taking a sip from her mug. She walked over, giving her wife a peck on the cheek before turning and walking back down the hallway. She pushed open to door to Shaun’s nursery and stepped inside. Setting her coffee on the dresser, she stepped over to the crib and peering inside. Shaun was fast asleep, one hand curled into a fist and shoved in his mouth.

“He sleeps so soundly,” Anabelle murmured, brushing her fingertips against Shaun’s cheek. Her son was such a sweet little thing, so mild-mannered and agreeable, she couldn’t have asked for an easier first child. He almost never threw temper tantrums and slept through the night more often than not.

Walking in behind her, Dala chuckled. “He takes after his Ma,” she said, walking forward and putting her hands on her hips.

Anabelle let out a happy sigh, leaning back into her wife’s chest. “He’s such a sweet boy,” she said. “I love him so much.” She’d always wanted to be a mother, and after thirty years she got the chance. The economy being what it was, IVF had been out of their budget for years, but two years ago the procedure became covered by Dara’s health insurance so they took advantage. They’d agreed Anabelle would carry, and they had their son Shaun fourteen months later.

Dala wrapped her arms around her waist and pulled her into her chest, enveloping the smaller woman in her frame. “I bet he’ll be just as smart as you too. Smart and sweet just like his Ma,” she hummed.

Ana blushed, smiling. “You’re such a flirt,” she complained, turning to press a kiss to her wife’s cheek.

Her wife laughed and reached up, tugging on one of Ana’s curls. “I love you,” she declared. “Both of you.”

Ana rolled her eyes, trying and failing to keep a happy smile off her lips. “I love you too, you big lug,” she said.

The scene warped, and she was in the vault, peering out of the pod doors. Shaun wiggled against her chest, pushing his little hands against her collar. Across from them, Dala stirred, lifting her head to meet Anabelle’s eyes. An unfamiliar man stepped between them. He wasn’t wearing a Vault-Tec uniform, and the doctor from earlier was gone. He smirked and the pod opened. “Who are you?” she asked, her voice oddly hoarse.

Two people in hazmat suits came into view, and one of them stepped forward. Without a word, they reached for Shaun, grabbing him and trying to pull him from her arms.

“What are you doing? Let go of my son!” she yelled, yanking away from the person. They held on tight, wrapping their arms around Shaun as they tried to pull away. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dala slamming her fists on the pod door, the ex-soldier's face twisted in fury. “Let go of Shaun!” she screamed, shifting her weight to kick out at the person. Before she connect, the man pulled out a pistol, leveling it at her and firing into her shoulder. Anabelle slammed back against the pod, her head cracking against a metal handle. Her vision blacked out for what felt like just a moment before coming back into focus. The strangers were gone and Dala’s pod was open, her wife nowhere to be seen.

“Dala!” Anabelle screamed, jolting awake. She stared at the walls of the dilapidated cabin, eyes wide with fear. Her shoulder throbbed in pain, the half healed bullet wound protesting movement. She rubbed the sore muscles, groaning.

She left the vault the day prior, the goal of finding her wife and stolen child in mind, but her plans had derailed moments after leaving the vault. The vault was still had supplies two centuries after its closing, so she camped out in the staff’s quarters for two days to recover from her wound. She managed to smash the lock to a medical kit, finding several stimpaks and some med-x inside. Two of the stimpaks were used immediately on her wound and she promptly passed out for twelve hours. As soon as she could move without screaming in pain, she scavenged as many supplies as would fit in an empty sack and left the vault to search for her wife and child.

The 10mm at her hip was foreign, very different from the hunting rifles her father and brothers taught her to use as a child but it was better than leaving the vault's protection unarmed. The terminals claimed two hundred years had passed since the bomb fell, she had no way to know what sort of creatures were wandering around. Before she had taken a step off the elevator her precaution was rewarded. A pack of dogs, bald and disturbingly mutated from the radiation ambushed her at the elevator platform, the largest of the dogs launching itself at her throat with snapping jaws.

She shot one of the dogs dead before fleeing south, away from Sanctuary. The dogs followed her for hours, only giving up when she locked herself in the safety of the cabin. Some past resident had boarded most of the windows up, so an old bookshelf shoved up against the door and last open window was more than enough to hold the hounds back.

Anabelle pulled the pipboy out of her bag, turning it on and flipping to the map. Vault-Tec marked Vault 111 and Sanctuary Hill's locations, and she believed the little blinking arrow was her current location. If she read the street map correctly she was southeast of Sanctuary, and due south of Concord. The dogs hadn’t chased her far, maybe two hours walk away from where she wanted to be.

The vault terminal logs claimed Dala’s pod opened a mere two days before her own, so more than likely her wife was still in the area. She guessed that Dala would either stay in Sanctuary for a few days or go to Fraternity 115 for supplies. Either way, she wouldn't have gotten far, so as long as she swung north she should at least find signs of her. When she'd been fleeing the dogs she had seen movement near Concord, any survivors living in the old town might know where her wife was or where the kidnappers had gone.

She rifled through her bag, pulling out a can of Pork ’n Beans and a kitchen knife. She knocked out the can’s lid with the knife’s handle, digging into the contents hungrily. The vault had had little in the way of food, so she had eaten little in the two days she’d stayed there. When she finished, she set the can aside and picked up a bottle of water, taking a large swig. Feeling better with food in her belly Anabelle packed up her few supplies, keeping the 10mm and two extra clips laid out on the floor. The cabin was dark, but light filtered through cracking in the window boards and the doorway.

Anabelle grimaced and stood, shoving the ammo into her suit pockets. She walked over the bookshelf, bracing her back against it and pushing with her legs. The bookshelf moved inch by excruciating inch, the rotten wood making a horrible noise against the floorboards. Without the adrenaline it took much more effort to move the heavy furniture, but after a few moments she shoved it out of the doorway. She stepped back towards the rotten mattress, picking up her pistol and inspecting the cabin.

The morning light illuminated the cabin much better than the sunset, revealing a small blue cooler hidden beneath a collapsed coffee table. Anabelle grinned, stepping over and kneeling down next to it. She flipped the latch, sighing in relief when it opened without resistance. She opened the cooler, laughing in relief at the contents.

Two more cans of beans and a bottle of water were nestled in a thick layer of dust and dirt. She grabbed the contents, shoving them into her bag as she stepped out onto the porch.

The dogs' tracks were obvious, paw prints circling around the cabin before disappearing northeast.

Anabelle stepped off the porch, grimacing as the wind pulled at her tangled hair. Personal hygiene wasn’t her highest priority at the moment, but she didn’t want to find Dala looking like an absolute slob. She hadn’t thought to grab a hairbrush from the vault though she had a few bars of soap and a toothbrush wrapped in rags at the bottom of her bag.

Walking around the side of the cabin she located what seemed like the direction she had come from and set into the forest. She picked her way through trees and tangled underbrush, cursing as small branches tangled into her hair or pulled at her feet.

The forest looked very different during the day, more like the forest trails she used to hike through during college than whatever nuclear hellscape she’d been expecting. The woods were much quieter than they had been before, whether it was due to the change in season or a product of time she couldn’t tell.

Thirty minutes into her trek she pulled out a bottle of water, taking small sips as she went. She crested a few small hills and took a small detour around a small pond before she finally reached a road. Anabelle groaned with relief, jogging out of the forest onto the pavement.

She looked around, searching for a surviving road sign or building to orient herself. She wandered up the road, hand on her pistol as she searched. Several minutes of looking yielded nothing, just a few rusted posts. Groaning, Anabelle set her pack down, kneeling and rifling through for the pipboy. She pulled it out, turning it on and clicking to the map.

“You’re kidding me!” she shrieked, staring at the screen in shock. She was even further south than before, on the highway that fed into Lexington from the east rather than anywhere near Concord. “Great, just great,” she complained, slumping to the ground. “Now I’m even further away! Why did I not take out the map when I was walking? Oh right, because I’m a moron! Dala’s never going to let me live this down,” she muttered, smacking her hand against her forehead. She slapped the pipboy down on her wrist, snapping the clasp closed.

“Right. I didn’t get too far, only another hour’s walk. I’m further west at least. If I go exactly north I’ll go straight towards Sanctuary Hills. I’ll find Dala, laugh about this, then we go find Shaun. No problem, I got this,” she said, pushing herself up. She brushed the leaves off her suit, grabbing her bag and turning to come face to face with a hideously mutated two headed deer.

Anabelle screamed, stumbling backward.

The deer honked back, waving its antlers and pawing at the ground. Two other monstrosities emerged behind it, each covered in sores and sporting an extra head. The leader took a step forward and Anabelle shrieked, drawing her pistol and pointing it at the deer. The deer bucked, screaming. It hit the ground and charged, antlers lowered at her.

She screamed and fired, striking the creature in the shoulder. Undeterred, the deer kept charging. Anabelle emptied the clip into the deer, not registering it’s collapse after the fifth shot. It slumped to the ground, blood pouring out of a dozen holes in its hide. The other deer stopped, staring at their fallen leader at Anabelle’s feet.

Anabelle froze, staring back for a few moments before booking it up the road. She raced up the highway, not daring to look back.

Only after she was gasping for breath and spots grew in her vision she slowed down. She glanced back, almost collapsing in relief when she saw the deer darting off in the opposite direction. She slowed to a stop, placing a hand over her racing heart. “T-that could’a gone better,” she gasped.

Once she recovered her breath she glanced around, searching the woods for any other animals. The trees were devoid of movement, but there was a large red splotch against the hill further up the road. Frowning, Anabelle pulled out another clip, reloading her pistol and walking towards it. Once she reached the crest of the next hill, the shape came into view.

A large metal sculpture shaped like a Nuka-Cola bottle stood amongst the trees, an identical sculpture collapsed on the ground on the other side of the road. Anabelle frowned, noticing several other pairs further up the road. Curiosity warred in her, and after a few moments of deliberation she stepped down the road.

* * *

 

Dala stared up at the ceiling, heart heavy. Her family was gone, her son stolen and wife murdered right before her eyes while she did nothing. Anabelle’s cries still rang in her ears, tormenting her whenever she closed her eyes.

Rescuing the settlers at Concord had helped, the crack of bullets and the deathclaw’s roaring drowning out Anabelle’s screaming. For an hour she forgot how she’d failed her family, focus on helping others.

Preston and Sturges were kind, backing off personal questions when she snapped at them, but the civilians pissed her off. They were always in the way, asking too many questions or generally being demanding.

Sensing she was awake, Dog whined and padded over to her mattress, sticking his nose in her face. Dala gave him a small smile, reaching up and rubbing his velvety ears.

Ana had always wanted a dog, cooing over pictures of various breeds and trying to convince her to let them adopt a dog. She would have loved Dog, spoiling the thing rotten with treats and affection.

Dog whined at her change in mood, pressing his wet nose into her cheek.

“Ok, ok, I’ll stop, just quit that,” she told the dog, sitting up. The morning sunlight hit her eyes, causing her to curse and look away.

Dog barked happily, backing up and running out of the room.

Dala rolled her eyes, grabbing her scavenged shotgun and standing. She cracked her sore back, groaning. She walked out of the house, following Dog down the street towards the Rosa’s old house. The old couple’s house had become the unofficial town headquarters. The survivors met for meals here, coordinated supplies runs, and hung around in the open air garage and living room. Preston was already up, cleaning his laser musket and chatting with Jun. The minuteman greeted her as she approached and giving her a wide smile.

“What’s on the agenda today, Colonel?” she asked, accepting an open can of iguana bits from Jun.

Preston straightened at the address, chest puffing at the mention of his rank. Dala had known dozens of recruits like him back in the military, zealous young men intent on proving themselves in the service of their country. They collapsed the quickest after combat, their dreams of glorious victory shattering when faced with the real carnage of battle. Dala wasn’t sure to be impressed at Preston’s optimism or concerned for his mental state that he managed to stay so cheerful after all he’d lost.

“Do you remember the trading post I was talking about on the way up here? Drumlin Diner?” he asked.

She nodded.

She knew exactly the place he was talking about. Before Shaun had been born it had been their favorite place to grab breakfast on Sundays. It had only been a fifteen minute drive in light traffic, so they’d gone almost every week. It had been a happy respite in their otherwise hectic lives, something to distract them from the stress of Ana’s course load or the constant threat of redeployment.

“We won’t be self sufficient for a few months, not until we can get crops planted and the first harvest comes in,” Preston continued, not noticing her lapse in attention. “So we need to get down there and set up a steady stream of supplies with the owner, trade whatever we can get for food and ammo. Struges’ traps won’t bring in enough meat to keep these folks fed, but we could trade the meat and skins for seeds and a steady supply of food.”

She nodded along, mind racing with the logistics. The neighbor two houses down, the one she never managed to remember the name of, had stocked his cellar with what had seemed like an excessive amount of non perishable food, and ammo. She’d thought it would have lasted for months if she hadn’t seen how much seven people ate in two days. She calculated it would last three weeks, five at most if Sturges’ snares were as effective as he claimed.

She nodded again. “Makes sense. You got a list?” He nodded, motioning for her pipboy. She handed the thing over, letting him type the information onto the device. He handed it back a minute later, giving her a happy smile. Dala looked over the note, nodding to herself as she read through the contents.

“Sounds good. I’ll head out in a bit,” she said.

* * *

 

“Hello?” Anabelle called, cautiously stepping down the transit station steps.

“Oh God,” a man moaned, his voice ringing through the empty station. Anabelle gasped flew down the stairs eyes wide.

A gaunt man sat slumped against a column, clutching his bloody side. Long oily brown hair was plastered to his forehead and his face was worryingly pale.

“Oh my word! Are you alright?” she asked, running to his side.

“They're going to kill them... I know it,” the man whispered, his voice weak.

Anabelle frowned, reaching to touch the man’s shoulders. “Hey, hey stay with me, sir,” she said, shaking his shoulder. “What happened? Who’s going to kill who?” she asked, heart racing. Dried blood covered his shirt, but his hand was over the wound so she couldn’t see how bad the injury was.

The man coughed, his chest shaking with the effort. “My family… We ran into some traders a while back... told us they knew a safe settlement... at Nuka-World. But when we got there… Found out they were Raiders the whole time, just stringing us along. I managed to escape, but my wife and son are still back there. I wanted to get some help and go back for them, but didn't count on taking a bullet,” he wheezed.

Anabelle’s brow furrowed, staring at the man in confusion. “Raiders?” she asked.

He nodded. “They fooled us... big time.  Don't even want to think about what they'll do to them. God, you've got to help me.”

She glanced back to the door, mind racing. The man looked like he was in tough shape, but a bullet to the gut could be fixed with one of the stimpaks she had in her bag. She could give that to him along with some food, go back to Sanctuary Hills to get Dala then bring her back to help. Dala was a trained soldier, a staff sergeant in the army before being discharged. If this man’s family had been kidnapped, she’d be in a much better position to help save them than Anabelle.

Seeing her hesitance, the man panicked. “No, no, don’t leave!” he yelled. “I can pay you. You bring them back safe, and I'll give you everything I have. Just hear me out.”

“I’m not going to leave you,” Anabelle said, giving him her most reassuring smile. “I have a stim in my bag, I'll grab it then we can figure this out, alright?”

He shook his head. “No, no... I'll be fine. Save it for my wife and kid, for Lisa and Cody.”

“No really. I have enough. Take it,” she insisted, leaning back to rifle through her bag.

“No! There’s no time for that,” the man insisted. “They might be killed any second now, we don’t have time.”

Anabelle’s heart twisted. She pulled out a stimpak, offering it to the man. “Look, my wife is only three hours walk north,” she explained. “She’s the one with combat training, not me. If I go get her the three of us could go rescue your family together instead of trying to go alone. We’d have a better shot of saving your family together.”

“No! Don’t you understand? They’ll kill my boy!” he yelled, hysteria dripping into his voice.

Anabelle sucked in a breath, rocking back on her heels. She couldn’t stay away much longer or Dala would move on and Anabelle might not be able to her. Not to mention, she had no idea where Shaun’s kidnappers had gone or how far they were. Every second she spent not searching for her baby was another moment he got further away from her.

“Please. If it’s caps you want, I’ll pay you!”

Anabelle shook her head. “Caps? What? Ok slow down, where is your family exactly? How did you get this far with a bullet in your side?” she asked.

He jerked his chin to the monorail behind him. “The raiders are holed up in Nuka-World. The fastest way to get to there is to take the Nuka-Express, but I shut it down so those bastards couldn't follow me.”

She nodded, parsing through the information. It made sense crime would be rampant if the government had fallen. The mafia and street gangs were getting bold back before the bombs, without the law holding them back it wasn't surprising they were more violent in getting what they wanted. “Ok, how would I get there? How would I start the train again?”

The man grunted, shifting and pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket. He handed the scrap to Anabelle. “Here. Take this password and find the office with the control terminal. You can restart it from there.”

Taking the note, she stood and jogged down the station to a door marked as employees only. She pushed the door open, walking to the terminal in the middle of the kiosk. She typed in the password, nodding when the terminal unlocked. A few clicks and the lights flared bright, the train’s engine rumbling to life.

“You did it!” the man gasped, voice filled with relief.

Anabelle glanced around, swiping a stack of twenties from an open cash register. She doubted these ‘raiders’ would simply let their captives go, but she might be able to pay them off, either with the cash or maybe by giving up the pipboy. Handheld computers had been extremely expensive even before the bomb, they could only be more valuable centuries later. Being a criminal lawyer might prove useful in this case, she had experience dealing with society's underbelly, so she might have a better chance at negotiating with raiders. Pocketing the cash, she exited the booth, walking back towards the man.

“It's no small thing you're doing for me. I won't forget it,” the man said.

Anabelle nodded, giving one last look back at the surface entrance. “Yeah. Just promise me one thing.”

The man nodded eagerly. “If a woman named Dala comes through here, tell her where I went, alright? My name’s Anabelle, Dala’s my wife, she’ll want to come check up on me, make sure I’m alright.”

“Of course. My name’s Harvey by the way,” he offered.

Anabelle smiled at him, trying to calm her racing heart. “Nice to meet you, Harvey. Hopefully I’ll be back soon with your family,” she said. She laid a stimpak next to him and walked to the open car entrance, guided in by a cheerful announcer reminding her to watch her step. She walked to the front of the car, examining the controls for a moment before pulling a lever on the far left of the console.

The doors hissed shut behind her, and a cheerful woman’s voice told her to take a seat before the train lurched into motion. Anabelle yelped, almost falling over with the sudden movement. She fell into a seat behind the conductor’s chair, pulling her bag close to her chest as the landscape zipped past the windows.

Nuka-World had been built a few hours from downtown Boston if she remembered correctly. She had never been, but Dala had gone once with some of her soldier buddies. They had thought to take Shaun there when he was older, maybe once he was in middle school and could drink soda without bouncing off the walls. She let her mind wander, thinking through everything she had to talk her way into freeing Harvey’s family

The train ride was smooth for having been built two and a half centuries prior, the parks coming into view half an hour into the ride. Anabelle watched out the window, taking in the dilapidated grandeur of Massachusetts’ greatest tourist attraction. She would have believed it was deserted before the train turned to face a massive tree.

Bodies hung from branches, fire crackling along the branches as crows gathered around decomposing corpses. Anabelle slapped a hand against her mouth, barely stopping herself from vomiting. The train ran right past the tree, so close she could see blood dripping from a woman’s decapitated head.

Her stomach heaved and her breakfast splattered against the car’s floor. Anabelle sat back in her seat, her eyes wide. She was in over her head. She’d expected gangsters, movie typical mobsters who’d demand ransom and then let their victims go free. Anyone willing to maul people that badly couldn’t be reasoned with. Harvey’s family was almost certainly dead, just as she would be if she didn’t go back immediately.

The monorail continued forward for several minutes before pulling into the entrance station, doors sliding open with an ominous hiss. She pushed herself up, stumbling over to the controls and yanking the lever back. The train’s engine sputtered and died, the car falling still.

The blood drained from her face as a voice came over the loudspeaker. “Attention all my favorite undesirables out there. In case you haven't noticed, looks like we got ourselves some fresh meat to run the Gauntlet! The slaughter is starting soon, so if you're going to watch it, now's the time!”

  



	2. Chapter 2

Anabelle screamed and dove behind an old Nuka-Cola machine, avoiding the spray of turret fire by inches. Bullets slammed into the wall behind her, sending chunks of stone flying. She shook, wedging herself firmly between the machine and the wall. The turrets continued firing for several seconds, engines whirring as they remained trained on her hiding spot. “Oh my lord, oh my lord, I’m going to die,” she wheezed, gripping her little 10mm. 

She’d walked into this room expecting to a raider attack, but as soon as the door slammed shut behind her half a dozen turrets activated and trained their muzzles on her. The closest one was two feet from her, hidden behind the half-broken wall that separated them. 

Anabelle peeked out from the machine, heart beating out of control as she exposed herself. From her angle she could only see one turret, a bulky freestanding gun with its barrel pointed right at her. She yelped and ducked back, covering her head and expecting a spray of bullets to slam past her at any moment. When the machine didn’t attack she risked another peek. 

The turret was positioned just so that the barrel was blocked by the metal counter but the engine compartment wasn’t behind cover. Her heart thumping, Anabelle raised her pistol, taking aim and firing at the machine. 

The first shot missed, but the second, third, fourth bullet slammed into the engine. The machine let out the horrible sound of grinding metal before exploding, shrapnel flying into the wall. Anabelle gaped, staring at the broken turret in disbelief. “I-I did it!” she gasped, a smile breaking out onto her face. 

Confidence restored, she crept out from behind the vending machine. She kept her back to the machine, peeking out through the hole in the wall. There was a wall mounted turret above the one she had destroyed, its barrel turning as it searched for movement. Raising the pistol, she squeezed an eye shut and took aim. A metal shard from the first turret was lodged in its casing, but otherwise was unharmed by the explosion. Anabelle exhaled and fired. Five shots hit, breaking the casing and exposing its mechanical innards. A sixth shot lodged itself into the barrel, irreparable crushing the delicate mechanism. 

She bent down, grabbing a combat shotgun off a fallen man in green armor. Sliding against the wall, she took aim through the hole at the wall. The turret was positioned to shoot her in the back if she made it past the first two, hidden behind a blind corner so she wouldn’t notice it until it was too late. 

She struggled with the angle for a minute before managing to stick the barrel through the hole and the correct angle and firing. The recoil slammed into her, almost knocking the gun from her hands.The turret shattered, warped metal falling to the floor. Anabelle pulled back, setting the gun against the ruined wall and rubbing her sore hands. 

“Pa woulda beat me if he saw me handle a gun like that,” she muttered, flexing her wrists. 

Her father had been a bit of a gun nut, even if he’d never been a fan of large groups like the NRA. He’d made sure all his children knew how to shoot and handle firearms correctly, beating proper techniques and safe handling into his children’s heads. Anabelle had never been too interested in carrying firearms or hunting like her siblings, but she’d won a regional championship in marksmanship back in highschool and kept up the skill into adulthood. 

She knelt next to the man, whispering a quick prayer before rifling through his pockets. He had another twelve shells on him, along with a small box of 10mm ammo. Pocketing both, Anabelle stood and stepped back under cover. She glanced around the wall, looking for the other turrets. 

There was a free standing turret sitting next to the door and another propped up on a wall in the far right corner. Anabelle took out her pistol and took aim. A minute of firing and ducking later and both guns were scrap on the ground. 

Anabelle stepped out past the wall, eyes flicking around the room. Not seeing any other turrets she crept forward, past a dead woman lying face down in a pool of dried blood. She could hear the clicking of a wall turret, but she couldn’t see where it was. A section of wall blocked off the left half of the third section, and based on the fact she wasn’t full of holes Anabelle assumed it was hidden there. She slowly walked to the opposite side of the room, searching for the gun. 

The final turret was mounted on the far wall, pointed toward the open door. She sprinted towards the smoking ruins of the first turret, ducking behind the counter. An ominous clicking came from the corner and a moment later a hail of bullets slammed into the counter. 

Anabelle flinched, kneeling down and covering her head.

She counted four seconds before the bullets stopped. She drew the 10mm, holding it out beneath the counter. Taking a moment to compose herself, Anabelle lifted the muzzle above the counter and fired. Without aiming her accuracy was terrible, but after the eleventh bullet the turret exploded. Anabelle stood up, reassured by the silence. She walked back around the counter, heart slamming against her chest. She strode towards the open door, relaxing once she was out of the turret room. 

The overhead system crackled to life and the same jeering voice that greeted her at the train came over the intercom. “Our new vic sure knows how to dodge some bullets. Good thing that's not all we got in store for her.” 

Anabelle grit her teeth and glared up at the ceiling. “I’m getting out of here, you psychos,” she hissed, adrenaline pounding through her veins. The first room emptied into a dim hallway, a locked door on her left and a downwards stairway to her right. She bit her lip and went to try the door, jiggling the knob. The door didn’t move. She frowned and reached into her hair, pulling out a pair of bobby pins. Bending them into shape, she stuck the pins into the lock. She twisted the pins in the lock, struggling for a few moments before the lock gave with a loud click. 

Smirking, Anabelle pushed the door open and looked around. A large duffle bag was on the ground and a few boxes of ammo sat on a broken shelf. She picked up the ammo boxes, looking over the contents before pocketing them. The duffle bag opened to reveal a long improvised rifle. 

“This looks like it’d fall apart after two shots,” Anabelle muttered, putting it aside. Beside the pipe rifle she found another pistol and two boxes of ammo, which she quickly pocketed. Seeing nothing else in the room, Anabelle turned and walked back into the hallway. She turned into the turret room, holstering her pistol and walking back to the abandoned shotgun. Hoisting the thing over her shoulder, she walked back into the hallway and down the stairs. The stairs led into a short hallway that turned left into a open room. 

The room was lighter than the corridor, and that was the only reason she spotted the trip wire and wasn’t immediately charred by a flamethrower. She picked her way through the room, avoiding the little green tripwires around every corner. With careful maneuvering she cut three grenades from a trap, sticking the explosives in her bag. 

After she escaped the room she was presented with a set of three which the announcer had cheerfully informed her would all kill her. Out of sheer luck she selected the door on the far left, successfully escaping down into the employees only tunnels. She creeps down the tunnel, barely holding in a scream when she sees what the next room holds. 

Almost twenty inactive turrets sit on shelves, all pointed towards the middle of the room. At the other end of the room, illuminated menacingly on a series of crates was a monkey toy. The neighbors had gotten one for their youngest two years back, and the tot had set it on the mailbox to clap its symbols at anyone that walked by. 

Anabelle palmed the grenades, thinking through her plan. she pulled out the pistol, moving as slowly as she could to set up the shot. A single shot to the chest and the monkey was destroyed. 

The turrets didn’t move. 

She breathed a sigh of relief. wake them. She pulled out the three grenades, pulling the pin on one and throwing it at the left shelf. She ducked behind the wall, crouching and covering her ears. There was a loud explosion from the room, followed by the crash of broken metal as it slammed into concrete. 

The speakers crackled to life. “This vic takes any longer, we're all gonna die of boredom,” the announcer complained. 

Anabelle grit her teeth, glaring up at the ceiling. Pulling herself to her full height, she stomped back to the door, peeking inside to see the carnage. The grenade had destroyed the shelf, causing the turrets to collapse in a pile of wreckage. To her surprise, none of the undamaged turrets had activated. Their barrels remained lowered, engines unmoving. 

Her brow furrowed as she looked over the undamaged guns, trying to figure out what was going on. “Why didn’t they go off?” she asked. “Was the monkey supposed to trigger them?” She bit her lip, thinking through her options. She could use another grenade to destroy the rest of the turrets then dispatch the surviving few with her shotgun, but if the turrets weren’t motion sensitive than she’d waste a valuable weapon that could save her further down the line. It seemed like there was a chance she could just walk through the room doing nothing and get through safely. 

“Come on, vic. While we're young here,” the announcer jeered, raucous laughter in the background. 

Anabelle exhaled and backed up, muttering a quick prayer. She sprinted into the room, making a desperate dash for the door. She ran past the turrets and through the door,  almost slamming into the far wall. 

“Someone thinks she's clever... Time for a little reality check!” 

Anabelle grimaced and walked down the hall, shotgun at the ready. She followed the hall into a large room divided by a series of barriers. Taking a cautious step inside, Anabelle looked around the room. She could see the little green thread of a trip wire on the right and a bathroom scale of all things on the left. Anabelle crept forward, turning right and stepping over the tripwire. She picked her way through the maze, avoiding a series of traps and a cat sized rat that tried its damndest to bite through her leg. She picked up another box of shells, climbing on a series of metal cages to skip to the end of the maze. Destroying the turret, she took out a stimpak and injected her injured calf. 

She rested for a few minutes while the tissue knit itself back together, closing her eyes and leaning against the wall. It was impossible to know how long this gauntlet was, or what would happen if she made it out alive. The raiders might just kill her, dumping her body in a ditch somewhere. Her eyes watered, and she fiddled with her wedding ring. 

It was becoming more doubtful by the minute she would ever make it back home to Dala, nevermind track down and rescue Shaun. She would probably never see her family again. She was going to die here, nameless and forgotten. “I’m so sorry, Dala,” she sobbed, tears rolling down her cheeks. She sobbed for a few minutes before she managed to pull herself together, wiping her tears. “Come on, you’ve got to keep going,” she told herself, pinching her cheeks. She shook her head and pushed herself up, stepping off the platform into the open tunnels. 

Frowning, she walked forward, keeping an eye out for threats. “Oh you’ve got to be kidding me,” she hissed, spotting the dark grey casing of a land mine. She avoided the device, picking her way forward. She took almost half an hour to clear the room, much to the constant complaints of the announcer. After the fifth time he complained her temper boiled over. “If you think this is so boring, why don’t you come down here and do this yourself!” she yelled, crossing her arms. 

The announcer was silent, and for a moment she thought he couldn’t hear her. “Oh damn, this vic’s got some teeth!” he announced, voice smug. 

“I’ll show you teeth,” she muttered, cocking the shotgun. 

The announcer came back, ignoring Anabelle’s comments. “Get over to Cola-Cars, and watch Colter crush our latest vic! Unless you don't like fun... and who here in Nuka-World doesn't like fun.” 

Anabelle paled, tightening her grip on the gun. Who was Colter and why did she have to fight him? Was he some sort of executioner? She opened a door, blinking as sunlight hit her eyes. She emerged into a warehouse full of old decorations and broken rides, the only exit funneling into a makeshift run of chicken wire. Anabelle walked up the steps into the warehouse proper, rubbing her calf and walking over the exit. 

“Goddamn, look who's in the homestretch! Time for a little audience participation!” the announcer crowed. Just as he finished talking a woman in black leather and a mask covering her face appeared on top of the run, a rifle pointed at Anabelle’s face. 

She yelped and dove for cover as the woman opened fire. The woman shot six times before disappearing. Anabelle jumped at the opening, racing through the cage. A handful of people appeared on top of the cage to shoot at her, but she managed to either dodge their shots or warn them off with her shotgun. When she finally crashed through the doors at the end of the run she almost collapsed, her heart thumping out of her chest. There was a screeching alarm sounding from further in the building, keeping her on edge.

“The slaughter is starting soon, so if you're going to watch it, now's the time. The stands are filling up fast. Better hurry 'cause for losers, it's standing room only,” the announcer said. 

Anabelle gulped, placing a hand over her heart and walking up the stairs. There was a short metal walkway that led to a locked door at the end of the hall. Frowning, she walked onto a metal platform. Her stomach dropping as she looked into the arena. A man in a full suit of scavenged power armor stood in the arena, another man tinkering with the suit behind him. 

“You got me all wired up there, Gage?” power armor man asked, voice muffled from the suit. 

“Yeah boss, the other man said in a thick cockney accent. 

“Alright, then go shut off that damn alarm,” the first man ordered. His minion turned and jogged into the operator’s box, hitting the controls. The door closed behind him and the power armored man turned to Anabelle. “Ah, there’s my next victim,” he said, voice smug. He paused, looking her up and down. “Are you kidding me, a vault suit? No vault dweller shoulda made it this far. Nisha’ll need to up the ante on the gauntlet. So here’s a quick rundown of how this works. You go stock up, make yourself presentable, then we’re going to give these folks a show.” He paused, looking toward the second man. “Alright Gage, let her through. Something tells me I’m going to enjoy this.” The door popped open in front of her, revealing a small room and a set of downward stairs. 

Anabelle stepped through the door.

* * *

Dala turned the corner, stepping into the square in front of Fenway stadium, now Diamond City.

A woman in a red coat and reporter’s hat stood in front of the gate, yelling into a microphone. “You open this gate right now, Danny Sullivan! I live here. You can't just lock me out!” she yelled. “I know you're listening, Danny! Open the gate.” 

The speaker crackled. “I'm sorry, but Mayor McDonough's really steamed, Piper. Sayin' that article you wrote was all lies. The whole city's in a tizzy. I got orders not to let you in, Ms. Piper. I'm sorry, I'm just doing my job,” a young man’s voice said. 

The woman groaned and stamped her foot. “What do you mean you can't open the gate? Stop playing around, Danny! I'm standing out in the open here, for crying out loud!” She huffed and turned to glance toward the dilapidated alleys. Her face lit up when she noticed Dala. “You. You want into Diamond City, right?” she hissed. 

Dala nodded. 

“Shh. Play along. What was that? You said you're a trader up from Quincy? You have enough supplies to keep the general store stocked for a whole month? Huh,” Piper stage whispered, leaning back toward the speaker. “You hear that, Danny? You gonna open the gate and let us in? Or are you going to be the one talking to crazy Myrna about losing out on all this supply?” she taunted. 

The man on the other end groaned. “Geez, all right. No need to make it personal, Piper. Give me a minute.” 

Piper crossed her arms and turned to Dala, smirking. Dala raised a brow, looking the woman over. The slip of paper in her hat declared her as a member of the press, and the gateman’s reaction told her that the general opinion of the media hadn’t gotten any better after two hundred years. If she was a legitimate reporter and not a tabloid writer, she could be an invaluable resource to track down Shaun’s kidnappers. 

The gate rumbled and lifted off the ground. A handful of guards stood in the room, rifles lowered but their eyes on the newcomers. An overweight middle aged man burst through the gate covering the entrance into the park, his face red. “Piper! Who you let you back inside? I told Sullivan to keep that gate shut!” he shouted, waving his arms. 

Out of the corner of her eyes, Dala saw a lanky ginger man cringe. 

“You devious, rabble-rousing slanderer! The.. the level of dishonesty in that paper of yours! I'll have that printer scrapped for parts!” the man shouted, stepping into Piper’s face. 

The woman in question sneered, undeterred by his aggression. “Oooh, that a statement, Mr. McDonough? ‘Tyrant mayor shuts down the press’?” she sneered. “Why don't we ask the newcomer? You support the news? 'Cause the mayor's threatening to throw free speech in the dumpster?” she asked, turning to Dala. 

She blinked as the rooms attention was suddenly on her. “Uh, always did believe in the freedom of the press,” she muttered. 

“Oh, I didn't mean to bring you into this argument, miss. No no no... You look like Diamond City material,” the mayor schmoozed. 

Dala’s eyes narrowed. Apparently not even the nuclear apocalypse could put an end to sleazy politicians. She’d always hated people like him before the bombs, people that’d claim to support the troops to gain votes then slash funding once they were in office. “Welcome to the great green jewel of the Commonwealth. Safe. Happy. A fine place to come, spend your money, settle down. Don't let this muckraker here tell you otherwise, all right?” 

She nodded, unimpressed. 

“Now, was there anything particular you came to our city for?” 

“I’m looking for someone. A baby boy, my son, went missing,” she said, her voice almost cracking. 

“Wait. Your son's missing?” Piper whispered, her eyes wide. She turned to the mayor, fury etched in her face. “You hear that, McDonough? What's Diamond City Security going to do to help this lady, huh? This isn't the first missing person's report to come through here, and now we've got an infant who's been taken!” 

“Don't listen to her. While I am afraid that our security team can't follow every case that comes through, I'm confident you can find help here,” he offered, “Diamond City has every conceivable service known to man. One of our great citizens can surely find the time to help you. Nick Valentine is a... detective of sorts, who specializes in tracking people down. Usually for debts or whatnot.” 

Dala’s brow furrowed, “I hope so.” 

The mayor coughed and straightened his tie, turning his attention on the reporter. “Now, I've had enough of this, Piper. From now on, consider you and that little sister of yours on notice,” he threatened. 

Piper rolled her eyes. “Yeah, keep talkin' McDonough. That's all you're good for.” 

The mayor huffed, giving her a nasty glare and walking back into the city. 

Piper sighed and looked at Dala, pity in her eyes. “Look, I-I'm sorry about your boy. Why don't you come by my office, later? I think I just found my next story. Give me some time to get settled in. While I'm at it, you should probably try to get your bearings around here. Maybe someone's seen your kid?” 

Dala nodded, pursing her lips. “I will. See you later, Piper.” She gave the woman a curt nod and followed the mayor into the city. 

* * *

“So, Harvey bagged another sucker to help his ‘family’. Can't believe that gag still works,” a man’s voice said.

Anabelle bristled. 

“I only got a minute so you better listen and listen good. The name's Gage. Porter Gage. Look: you made it this far, so you’ve got skill, but the fight ahead is rigged. You got me?” 

She stalked over to the intercom, smashing the button. “I wouldn’t expect anything else from a bunch of low life murderers,” she hissed. 

The man chuckled. “Yeah, well Overboss Colter… His power armor’s set up to draw energy from the electric grid in the arena. Damn thing's invincible. You name it, someone's tried it -- miniguns, grenades. Not a scratch. You get what I'm saying?” 

Her eyes narrowed, clasping her hands together to stop their shaking. “So how do I beat him?” she asked, successfully keeping the quiver out of her voice. 

“You want to win? I stashed a weapon in the lockers. Get it,” the man commanded. 

Anabelle spun around, stomping over to the lockers. She rifled through the selves, finding several gun store’s worth of ammo but no weapon. She ducked down, sticking her hand into the bottom cupboard. Her fingers closed around a handle and she pulled the weapon out. Anabelle stared at the little red squirt gun in her hands, dumbfounded. 

She walked back over to the intercom, pressing the button. “ Is this a... squirt gun?” she asked, confused. “This isn't going to work. This gun is a toy!” 

“Yeah, yeah, I know what it looks like. You're just going to have to trust me. Once the water hits Colter's electrically-charged Power Armor, the circuits are gonna short out. It'll kill his defenses, but you'll only have so much time to do some damage before they recharge. You take him out, I promise you, it'll be worth every minute spent in this Gauntlet.” 

Anabelle grit her teeth. “Fine. Consider it done,” she hissed. 

The man laughed, “I like you, you’ve got spunk. All right, it's time. I'll open the door. See you on the other side.” Down the hall a door opened, popping open with the hiss of hydraulics. 

Anabelle cursed, looking around the room for anything to help her. She pocketed another box of shells from the lockers and wandered over to the bathroom. Using the same bobby pins from earlier she unlocked a first aid kit, putting the stimpaks and bottle of water in her bag. She turned around, stepping toward the arena and coming face to face with a massive hole in the wall she previously hadn’t seen. She bit her lip and stepped through the wreckage. To her immediate left was a generator, a standard fusion core plugged into the battery slot. 

“Jackpot,” she grinned, walking to the generator and tugging the battery out of the hole. The lights flickered, dying for a moment. They came back on a moment later, dimmer than before. 

The intercom crackled to life. “Huh? Power to the Arena's down by thirty percent. You do that? Not bad,” the man said, almost sounding impressed. 

Anabelle ignored him, shoving the fusion core into her pocket and stepping back into the bathroom. With the grim determination of a woman facing certain death she walked to the arena. Her shotgun was a comfortable weight against her back, giving her some measure of security. She stepped into the entrance, staring blankly at the behemoth behind the closed door. 

Overboss Colter ignored her, turning to face the crowd “Disciples! Are you ready for blood?” he yelled. “Death, death, death!” the crowd chanted. “And the Pack! Are you ready for things to get wild?” The crowd roared in response. “Operators! Are you ready to see me notch another kill?” The gathered raiders at the back of the arena gave half hearted applause, far less enthusiastic than the others. He turned back to her, stepping towards Anabelle. “And you. Are you ready to die?” 

The door popped open before Anabelle could respond. 

“Let’s do this!” Colter yelled. 

Anabelle sprinted into the arena, diving behind a bumper car. Bullets whizzed past her head, slamming into the plexiglass. She tightened her grip on the water gun and pulled out a grenade. The raider stomped toward her, pausing his firing to reload. 

She jumped at the opportunity. Popping up, she pointed the pistol toward him, firing the water at his chest. For a few terrifying moments nothing happened, the water splashing uselessly against his chest. 

Colter scoffed and prepared to say something when the suit short circuited, electrocuting the raider boss. 

Anabelle pulled the pin on the grenade, lobbing it at the man. She sprinted for the other side of the arena, hiding behind another car. Behind her Colter hollered in pain, cursing her as the power came back into his suit. Bullets hit the wall behind her, the raiders standing behind her jumping away. She hooked the Thirst Zapper on her belt, pulling out a water bottle and the fusion core. 

Colter crashed over to her, footsteps crashing against the ancient tile. 

She hurled the bottle at him. The plastic burst on impact, dousing the suit and causing it to short circuit again. The fusion core followed it, clattering to Colter’s feet. Anabelle jumped up, unhooking her shotgun and leveling it at the core. She fired three rounds in quick succession into the plastic casing. Menacing green energy crackled around the broken core. 

Throwing caution to the wind, Anabelle sprinted to the other end of the arena. She got a dozen yards away and the core exploded, the shock wave knocking her to the ground. She yelped as she collided with the ground, a piece of broken metal slicing into her injured shoulder. 

She forced herself to her feet. Anabelle looked toward Colter, clutching her bloody shoulder. His suit was blown open, jagged metal sticking out at odd angles. He crashed to his knees, blood dripping down his chest onto the floor. The suit was a charred, mangled mess and the left leg had caved inward, drenched crimson blood 

Eyes wide, Anabelle shuffled over to him, shotgun at the ready. The crackle of electricity that had covered his suit was gone, the connection between the suit and the ceiling damaged. The crowd was silent as she approached Colter, tiptoeing around to his front. Colter’s head hung out of the mangled helmet, his face slashed to shreds by his suit. His throat was a mess of blood and mangled flesh, shrapnel buried in the soft flesh. 

Anabelle slapped a hand over her mouth, swallowing down bile.    
“Holy shit!” the announcer yelled, “I don't... I don't even know what this means! Colter, man, he's out!” 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Also, if you haven't, I can't recommend reading MorganOfTheFey's story 'Machine Mother'. Morgan is an amazing author all around, but Machine Mother is one of the best fanfictions I've ever read in years. Their Sole Survivor Anna was the inspiration for Dala, so if you like this you might be interested in their writing.


End file.
